


Screwed Sideways

by accol



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, Switching, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First came love. Then came marriage. Then they both came hard in the honeymoon suite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nomorerippedfuel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomorerippedfuel/gifts).



> Based on fictionalized portrayals of characters in _Generation Kill_. Nomorerippedfuel prompted this to [fivesentencesmut](http://fivesentencesmut.tumblr.com), but it needed a lot more than five sentences. Minor deviations of geography and timeline from canon to suit the story.

It was a quiet Sunday morning, and here Brad was doing exactly zero of the things that he would have imagined for himself had you asked him a few years ago. That would have been the pre-Fickian era. Now, like the dinosaurs and their goddamn meteor, Brad’s world was screwed sideways.

He just happened to like being screwed sideways, so at least there was that.

Brad sipped his mug of tea and flipped through the paper. It was less than a year ago that DADT had gone the way of the dinosaurs. Today, Maryland apparently took its collective head out of its ass too.

Brad looked over the edge of the newspaper and stared at Nate. He had a pair of glasses low on his nose as he proofread some strategy document. The glasses were the only hint at Nate’s actual age; he’d come to bad eyesight prematurely. The rest of him looked like a college boy. Brad quietly smiled, because Nate’s stamina was that of a college kid too.

Nate must have felt Brad’s eyes on him. He looked up and returned Brad’s smile with a confused one of his own.

“What?”

“I love you,” Brad said.

Nate nodded. “I love you, too. What brought that on?”

The sound of his blood pounding muted Nate’s question. Brad’s body seemed to have a mind of its own for a second, because he was suddenly down on one knee in front of Nate’s armchair. He still had the New York Times in his hand, because apparently the things we do for love include compromising our morals by reading left wing propaganda.

“Marry me, Nate.”

Nate took off his glasses and really looked at Brad, like he thought Brad might have slipped a little something extra into his morning tea. Brad pushed the front page into Nate’s hand, looking up at Nate hopefully. Brad was absolutely sure that this needed to happen.

“It’s your hometown,” Brad said. He kissed Nate’s inner thigh and waited.

Nate lifted Brad’s chin and slipped to his knees, too. Chest-to-chest with Brad, Nate wordlessly and very enthusiastically said yes.

****

The next two months were pretty much ridiculous. Amazingly, Bravo didn’t get deployed. Nate smirked when Brad said something about liking the current president a little bit more every day, despite his party affiliation, since he wasn’t managing to fuck up their wedding. Neither of them decided to call it off despite the stress of trying to plan this thing from the opposite coast. Probably that had to do with the fact that Brad’s sisters took care of a lot of it in cooperation with Nate’s sisters. None of the sisters thought they were comediennes so Brad figured he and Nate were fairly safe from sneak attacks of tulle or doves.

Brad told Bravo 2 right away. Ray made a big show of yawning and telling him to “come back when he had news about something they didn’t already know since forever.” Then Ray hugged him and quietly said his sincere congratulations. Brad had braced himself for at least a little tension, but there was absolutely zero of it. He went home afterward and Nate had just smiled like that was no surprise at all. Brad decided immediately that Nate needed that know-it-all attitude fucked right out of him. _Hey, it was worth a try_ , Brad thought with a fucked-out smile when he collapsed across Nate later. Nate basically did know everything, despite his protests to the contrary, and that was one of the things Brad had fallen in love with.

They were intending to keep the wedding small. Unsurprisingly, Ray and his henchman in matters such as this, Walt, invited basically all of First Recon to watch the men “that everyone always knew were gay for each other” finally get married. Despite their families’ best efforts, the news media started calling the house almost right away. It pissed Brad off hugely that everything he and Nate kept unerringly private was now considered public property. Consequently, he did a lot of running on the beach. Nate apparently approved of Brad’s stress relief methods, because those after-jog massages generally devolved into Nate licking his way down Brad’s abs.

“You’re going to have to get your uniform tailored if you keep this up,” Nate smiled. The biting, dry wit of Brad’s response was lost when Nate started sucking him off.

****

Against Brad’s better judgment, he’d asked Ray to be his best man. Gunny’s best man speech was lovely and brief. Ray’s on the other hand... Walt kindly moseyed over at the halfway point and refilled Brad’s and Nate’s champagne glasses with whiskey, much to the amusement of the guests. At least Ray warned the parents in the room when they should cover their kids’ ears.

Nate leaned over and whispered the millionth “I love you” into Brad’s ear, following it with a nibble. Brad squeezed Nate’s knee and kissed him. The room ignored Ray for a minute to emit a collective “awww.” Brad was fairly certain that a Recon Marine and his ex-LT-turned-wonk didn’t usually merit an “awww.” At least no one had started that annoying glass clinking thing.

****

Brad wasn’t prone to hyperbole, but he was sure that the next hour and a half had included four hundred thousand glass clink-inspired, public make-out sessions with his new husband.

 _His new husband._ Well, fuck if that wasn’t both hysterical and perfect at the same time. Brad reached over and straightened Nate’s already straight bowtie. He wondered how the hell he’d gotten so lucky.

****

Forty-five minutes later, most of the families had called it a night. That was the cue for the guys to let their figurative hair down and make this into a real party.

Apparently the first step of that was a collective, off-key sing-along to Social Distortion’s _Ball and Chain_. Brad knew this was Ray’s doing. Goddamn if Brad didn’t still like that motherfucker despite all of his crazy shit, though. He demonstrated his affection for Ray by putting him in a headlock and letting Poke put lipstick on him. Ray grabbed the tube from Poke’s hands, despite Poke’s protests that it was his wife’s and Ray’s yelled response that he should have thought of that first. He went around the room leaving kiss marks on every last Marine’s cheek. Walt’s kiss mark might have been half overlapping his lips, but no one was saying anything about that right now. The photographer laughed as she arranged all of them around Brad and Nate and took the second to last picture of the evening.

The last picture was of Brad and Nate kissing under an unofficial sword ceremony archway. The photographer didn’t let the guys cajole her into taking one more of them mooning the happy couple in some sort of demented-yet-affectionate salute.

Nate slipped his hand into Brad’s. The backslaps and handshakes never wanted to end. They managed to get away when Nate finally announced loudly that there needed to be some consummation of this union and none of them were invited to that part. Brad laughed when the LT sometimes popped up and made himself known.

****

Upstairs, their hotel room was simple -- stripped ahead of time by Brad’s sisters of all of the frivolous crap the hotel staff wanted to equip the wedding suite with. As soon as the door clicked shut, Brad slipped Nate’s tuxedo jacket off and let it fall to the floor. Nate unfastened Brad’s uniform, softly cursing the design of the dress blues and all of the fucking buttons. Brad realized his cheeks ached from smiling.

“Come here,” Nate said, finally getting Brad’s jacket off. He linked their hands palm-to-palm. There were their rings, shimmering in the low light of the honeymoon bedroom. Nate snorted a laugh and looked at Brad.

Brad smiled again, unable to help himself as the warm emotions threatened to spill out of him in some sort of uncharacteristically poetic display. Nate rescued Brad from potential embarrassment by speaking instead.

“What the fuck did we just do?” Nate stroked the side of Brad’s face, running his thumb across Brad’s lips.

“Made ourselves an example, I’m afraid,” Brad smiled. “I would be willing to bet that we’ll have our own paparazzi tomorrow morning.”

Cunning flashed in Nate’s eyes. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve made arrangements. I’ve been assured that we will be unbothered.”

Brad laughed. Leave the strategy to a reconnaissance-trained, Harvard-educated twink. “As long as they don’t get themselves arrested first, I like the way you think.”

“ _I_ like _you_ ,” Nate said, kissing Brad and resuming their door-to-bed vector.

“I’d hope it’s more than _like_ at this point,” Brad said. He knelt to untie Nate’s shoes and slip them off his feet.

“You’re my husband now,” Nate said in way of an explanation.

Brad watched his own fingers as they slipped Nate’s socks off and massaged the arches of Nate’s feet. The ring that Nate had given him just a couple of hours ago was right there on his ring finger.

“I blame you, sir. You were the one that said yes,” Brad teased. He stood and Nate worked Brad’s belt open. Brad toed off his shoes.

“I blame you for eyefucking me--”

“You started that!”

Nate laughed. “Brad, I fucking love you.” Nate pulled Brad down on top of him, rolling him over and pulling Brad’s undershirt over his head. It caught on his wrists. “...Even though you started it.”

Brad’s laugh didn’t go anywhere, because Nate kissed him again. This was fiery. Nate pressed their groins together and pulsed his hips.

“Fuck,” Brad gasped, his wrists still pinned above his head. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you since we got to the reception.”

Nate breathed a laugh against Brad’s neck, dragging his teeth along and drawing a shiver of lust from Brad. Nate had discovered that sweet spot on the night of their first kiss, less than a week after returning from Iraq. Brad had absolutely come undone that night, and Nate had just kept coming back for more. Brad occasionally still jerked off to thoughts of that first night.

Nate slid down Brad’s body slowly. Brad closed his eyes and just enjoyed it. They were unhurried now. The permanence of this seemed to lift a weight off of Brad that he didn’t even know was there. Nate released his grip on Brad’s wrists finally, but Brad just let himself sink deeper into the mattress.

Nate nuzzled into the crease of Brad’s thigh and groin. “My mouth is watering, Brad,” Nate breathed.

Brad stroked his fist up his dick. Nate licked Brad’s exposed balls.

“Oh, fuck,” Brad said, pushing his head hard against the mattress and flexing his hips.

Nate chuckled. “Again?”

Brad answered with a moan as Nate sucked his balls into his wet, perfect mouth. Brad stroked his fist up his dick again, thumbing over the leaking head. Nate could always make him feel on the verge of shooting his load from these little, simple touches.

“That’s it,” Nate said, voice low. “Get yourself hard so I can ride you.”

Brad sucked a breath in through his teeth. Nate was usually fairly quiet in the bedroom, so this little hint of dirty talk was a welcome surprise.

“I’m already there. Come up here and let me open you up,” Brad said.

Nate knelt over Brad’s mouth and gripped the headboard. With the first touch of Brad’s tongue to Nate’s ass, Nate’s abs clenched in pleasure.

Brad laughed, “Is this going to be like that time I fucked your orgasm of you?”

Nate hummed deep in his chest. Brad jerked off to that memory too; the sight of his cock disappearing into Nate’s clenching asshole while ropes of Nate’s come shot up over his chest, Nate’s hands nowhere near his dick.

Brad pushed his tongue past Nate’s pucker, fucking him shallowly until Nate leaned into it and tried to force Brad deeper. Nate had never been a particularly patient man in bed. He usually wanted it fast and jarring. Tonight was their night, so Brad would give Nate whatever he wanted. Right now that was his tongue deeper. Brad gasped in mouthfuls of Nate’s musky scent.

Nate trembled above him, and Brad knew he was ready for more. He pushed Nate away from his mouth, and leaned over the side of the bed for the lube. Nate had rolled onto his back and was holding his knees up, waiting. Brad couldn’t help smiling at Nate’s eagerness. After years, Nate still wanted him this much. Brad’s cock bounced.

“Fuck. Brad. You can’t look at me like that without touching me.”

Brad flicked open the bottle and drizzled lube over his fingers and cock.

“Touch you like this?” Brad asked, pushing two fingers into Nate.

“Yes,” Nate hissed. Brad slid a third inside and Nate threw his head back onto the pillow.

“Should I made you come just like this? On my hand?”

“Don’t you fucking dare. Brad, come on,” Nate said. A whining, pleading note was entering his voice and Brad knew he was ready.

Brad leaned over Nate and kissed him as he slid inside. The realization that he wasn’t just fucking Nate right now, he was fucking his husband, jolted through Brad. He moaned and sank his weight onto Nate’s body. Nate’s tongue slid into his mouth; Brad’s followed suit. He took up a slow rhythm with his hips, going deep with each thrust. Nate’s dick was hard between them, and his ankles were locked behind Brad’s back. Nate was hanging onto Brad like Brad might still run.

“I love you,” Brad said. “Open your eyes. I love you.”

Nate nodded. They didn’t have to hide anymore. It was kind of liberating. Brad swung his hips harder. Their skin slapped together. Brad wanted Nate loud if they didn’t have to keep this under wraps.

“Harder,” Nate gritted out.

Brad leaned back. Nate’s ankles were still hooked over Brad’s hips, pushing him deeper even as Brad’s pace quickened. Nate spit on his palm and pumped his fist hard on his cock. He looked so gorgeous like this; fierce and greedy in a way that only Brad got to see.

“Ah, fuck!” Nate yelled.

Brad pounded into him harder. The bed shifted against the wall, squeaking on the wood floor as it jumped a fraction of an inch each time Brad drove into Nate’s ass.

“Yeah, come on,” Brad breathed. “Let yourself go, Nate. Let me hear you.”

It was like Brad found that switch that had been hiding in Nate. Nate locked eyes with him and his groan of ecstasy filled the room. Nate’s hand was in a white-knuckled grip around the head of his cock while his come came in hot jets across his chest. Brad leaned down to lick a bead of it from his chin.

“Fuck, I love you so much, Nate,” Brad gasped as Nate clenched around him again. With three more hard snaps of his hips, Brad came too.

****

They laid together quietly for a long time, too wired to sleep despite -- or perhaps because of -- the long day. Eventually Nate dragged him to the shower and they kissed leisurely under the water. Nate tossed Brad a towel squarely in the face and shoved him wet against the bathroom wall while he was blinded.

“My turn,” Nate said.

He pushed them both down on the bathroom floor. The plush rug and a folded towel protected Brad’s knees as Nate rimmed the fuck out of him. Brad was moaning incoherently by the time Nate finally pushed a finger inside his loose hole. Then it was Nate’s cock filling him. His husband was the only man who had ever fucked him, and Brad was surprised at his own sentimentality about that. He leaned into Nate’s thrusts, his cheek on the cold tile. He reached back with one hand and laced his fingers with Nate’s. The look of love and absolute devotion on Nate’s face was almost the last straw.

“Oh, shit,” Brad said, surprised to be rocketing toward his orgasm.

He reached for his dick, barely getting a hand on himself when he came hard. His body spasmed, and Nate held him through it. Nate whispered quiet, possibly smug words in Brad’s ear and stroked his sides.

When Brad finally regained his senses, Nate slid out and rolled Brad over. He knelt over Brad’s chest and jerked off into Brad’s mouth. Brad swallowed all of it and then laid faint, exhausted kisses on every part of Nate he could reach.

****

Their older-than-they-once-were bodies were no match for the hard floor of the bathroom, so they were sliding under the covers within minutes.

“I can’t believe we’re married,” Nate said.

“You started it,” Brad smiled sleepily.

Police sirens interrupted them.

“Well, there goes our paparazzi dispersion tactic,” Brad laughed.

“I budgeted for bail money. Don’t worry,” Nate replied.

Brad laughed. Of course Nate had thought of that contingency. He wrapped himself around Nate, their long legs tangling from thighs to toes. He brought Nate’s hand to his mouth and kissed his ring finger.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite a year post-wedding

”Looks like our commie dick-suck brethren are spreading,” Brad said, snapping the newspaper to get it to fold the opposite direction.  He slid it across the breakfast table to Nate and tapped the article.

Nate read the headline.  ”Person will want to rewrite  _Stars and Stripes Forever_ to include something about rainbows.”

"It’s a veritable coup d’hetero.  [The President’s Own](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Marine_Band) will be in jocks and chaps by the end of the week.”

Nate laughed and saluted that idea with a crisp flick of his hand.  ”More coffee?”

Brad was still not tired of falling in love with Nate Fick.  The short-lived and secret phase Brad endured wherein every 80’s song was about their relationship was mercifully over.  He could manage to be in a room with his husband for more than five minutes without getting twitchy that someone else might touch him; Brad didn’t need the murderous impulses associated with that.  However, the private little joys never lost their shine: Nate’s coffee mug with the hairline crack stained permanently brown from post-grad late nights; his ridiculous old-man loafers that he slid into within seconds of getting home from work; their drawer of sin (Walt’s blushing name for it when he tried to borrow a pair of socks) with all of the implements they were discovering they enjoyed.  

Nate shuffled back in his loafers and topped off Brad’s cup.  ”Eggs for breakfast?”

Brad thought of their drawer.  ”Has Eric ever told you his egg story?”  He smiled and backed Nate out of the kitchen toward their bedroom. 


End file.
